Editing this week with thanks as always to James for accepting the mess that I make…

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Storm Clouds 118

Chapter 19

By TeraS

“Step back, Camilla. I can’t let you hurt her.”

The answer to that came in a cruel smile and the words, “I haven’t hurt her yet, Dick. Oh, she wants it and loves it, though. She has a fantasy of having her ass whipped until she can’t sit down for a week. You know that dream makes her dripping wet every night?”

Tom watched as Camilla, in Ginger’s form, raised her right hand toward the ceiling and a long black riding crop appeared there.

“Camilla, stop. Think about what you’re doing. This isn’t you.”

“Oh, but it’s her.”

The whip came down hard on Ginger’s rear and a long red mark was left behind … but Ginger herself didn’t say a word. Not one. Tom was, to be blunt, uncomfortable with all of this. The sex part of it didn’t bother him, but the abuse? That was going against what he believed in.

“You’re going to have to stop, Camilla.”

“No. This is what she wants, Dick. Not what I want or you want. Now, go and have a drink from the office bar or read a paper or watch, or wait outside. I don’t care because she doesn’t. All she knows is that the one person she can submit to is debasing her and making her be the person she is inside. A meek little fucktoy that needs a firm hand to guide her.”

Tom wasn’t buying it and he moved towards Camilla, “Sorry, but you aren’t going to do this.” Tom didn’t want to pull his gun and use it on her. That was a last ditch resort as far as he was concerned. He closed the distance and then took hold of Camilla’s wrist, stopping her from using the whip again.

She looked up at him and her eyes glowed green, “Thomas, please trust me on this. This is the fastest way to get what we need from her. Don’t interfere with what you see.”

Tom’s grip became a little firmer, “Abusing people is wrong, Camilla.”

“It is. But then she isn’t a person right now, and so she doesn’t qualify. Would you like to hear it from her own lips? Would that make it acceptable, then?”

Ginger’s voice was wrapped in need as she begged, “Slut has been a bad girl. She needs to be punished. Mistress has to punish Slut.”

“That makes it worse.”

Camilla’s tail wrapped itself around Ginger’s neck and tugged her close to one side, pushing Tom slightly as she moved. She took hold of Ginger’s hair again and pulled her face to look up at her, “Good Slut. You can lick my shoes.”

There was no delay from when Camilla let go to when Ginger was on her hands and knees doing exactly that and mewling in pleasure from it.

Tom’s disgust with the whole situation came to a boil, and he shoved Camilla’s hand away from him. He turned away from the scene and moved towards the door, pausing there as he gripped the door handle, “Tell me something, Camilla. Is this what Succubi do? Hurt and harm others? Are you going to suck away her soul next and kill her?”

To his surprise Camilla answered that with, “There is a difference between what you see and what there is, Tom. Look back.”

He did, and he saw Camilla as he had always known her, sitting on the chair, but with Ginger still on the floor in front of her degrading herself. Camilla’s tail was wrapped around Ginger’s neck directing her movements.

“If someone gave you your heart’s desire, wouldn’t you take advantage of it? This is what she wants, Thomas, and neither you nor I have the right to judge her. She needs this, has needed it for some time now. She’ll gladly answer anything for this to happen without hesitation.”

“I don’t like this, Camilla. Tell me something: do you like it?”

Camilla didn’t hesitate, “No. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Some sacrifices have to be made to get the answers we need.”

Then the scene shifted again to what it had been moments before, a slave grovelling at the feet of a cruel Mistress.

“Get the point, Dick?”

Tom nodded slightly–“Still doesn’t mean that I have to like it”–and left the office, shutting the door behind him.

Camilla was silent for a time after Tom left. It was difficult to explain the world that she lived in to humans. Tom had managed to accept most of it, but this part of being a Succubi or an Incubi, the part of it where realities shifted and sometimes not for the best, was a problem. The problem in carrying it out came in getting too involved in the fantasy and having that stay with you when the moment was gone. Camilla knew already that she was going to feel dirty after it was all over, but she tempered that disgust with the knowledge that it might, just might, get her the answers she needed.

She rubbed her free hand over the mark on Ginger’s ass, “Now, you worthless slut, you will answer every one of the questions asked. For every one you answer truthfully, I will reward you with another cropping that you need so badly … And, if you are very good, I’ll let you finally cum like the needful cunt you are.”

Her hand came down hard, “Understood?”

The answer was just above a whisper and was filled with need: “Yesssss, Missstresss.”

Camila held the crop in the air and began asking her questions.

“What do you know of the Succubi?“

“They are what is wanted.”

Camilla paused at that answer. It didn’t sound like something that Ginger would say on her own, which was troubling. She took the crop and placed it lengthwise against Ginger’s folds, pressing it against the flesh, “Wanted for what, slut?”

“To be claimed again by those they no longer serve.”

It took a great deal of control for her not to grab Ginger by her collar, and she managed in a curt voice, “Who wants them?”

Ginger didn’t respond to that. Camilla placed one hand against Ginger’s cheek, a green glow appearing there and moments later Ginger began to shake and mewl, but didn’t speak. Camilla’s fingers stroked slowly, “Slut… I am going to take you to the edge of cumming. Your pussy is going to ache and your mind is going to splinter apart piece by piece until you answer my question. The sooner you do, the better it will be for you … Otherwise, I am going to leave you a mindless shell here on the floor and then, oh then I’m going to find Mary Ann and do the same thing to her, slut.”

The answer was barely a whisper, one that Camilla would have missed save for the ragged breath that was taken before the words came out.

“Please. Mistress doesn’t know why.”

Camilla drew the crop up and down as she tried to make sense of what had been said. Mistress doesn’t know why? But at the moment, Camilla was the Mistress here, wasn’t she?

“Tell Mistress why she doesn’t know.”

“Mistress does what she is told to do, just like slut.”

The cold shiver of realization of what Ginger had been trying to say made her stand up and run for the door, leaving Ginger curled up in a ball on the floor, her fingers pumping frantically in and out of her sex trying to overcome the hold that Camilla had over her.

She shifted back into her normal form, save for her horns and tail, which still were visible as she drew open the door and shouted, “Thomas!”

Moments before, Tom had left the office and closed the door behind him. It really bothered him how Camilla could do this. He supposed that most of his misgivings were because he was very old school in his thinking about relationships and sex. It had always been his belief that you found the right person for the right reasons, acted honourably, loved them, married them and then were happy together.

He didn’t understand why people would want to suffer or be abused by others. It just didn’t make sense when he first heard of it and today … well, that hadn’t changed all that much.

He looked over to where Mary Ann sat at her desk typing away at a computer there. Ignoring her, he moved towards the leather chairs and sofa on the far side of the room, hoping to find a magazine that didn’t have artificially enhanced women on the cover but did have some real articles within the pages. Looking at the table there, he sighed a bit as, of course, the only things to be seen were the current and past issues of the company’s flagship magazine, and nothing more.

Giving up on that idea, he dropped into a chair facing the office he just left and looked over the lobby. Lots of mirrors around–probably for Ginger to preen in, he thought. The doors through which the goons had left were closed … and Mary Ann … she was suddenly standing to the right of him in that stupid schoolgirl outfit, a slightly vapid smile on her lips.

“Hello Mary Ann.”

“Hiya, ‘tective! You need something while you’re waitin’?”

“No, thanks. Nothing here that interests me.”

She had a hurt look for a moment and then traced a finger over the curves of her breasts that showed over the top of the white shirt that she was wearing, “Nothin’? Nothing at all?”

Tom closed his eyes and sighed, “Nope. You have nothing that I’m interested in.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but instead tried to make sense of everything that had happened so far: thoughts of possible reasons, ideas of who was on the list next. But then, for some reason, his thoughts turned to his past and the one woman he had ever truly loved. He found the image of her forming so very clearly in his thoughts; he could see her, almost smell her perfume …

Sitting up, he coughed for a moment, and then heard a voice …

“Are you having allergies again, Thomas?”

That voice. Tom opened his eyes and saw standing there a woman with pixie-cut brunette hair with some blonde in it, a button nose, the pink lips he remembered so very well, wearing a black off-the-shoulder dress, and he heard the voice that he thought was gone forever.

“Beth?”

“Hi, Thomas …”

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2 comments

James

Dear One, I don’t accept messes . . . certainly not from you, for you have never required me to do so. You tell wonderful stories, and your heart simply offers some perspective and suggests some polishes that bring your story out a bit better.

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